


Marionette Dressed in Blue

by imaginationtherapy



Series: Shameless [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, I'm not sorry, Jakes Likes the Sausage, M/M, Oral Sex, Peter Jakes Didn't Leave Oxford, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Smut, Sort Of, Teasing, all the kissing, chapter 1 is smut-free, if you were interested, much smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy
Summary: Peter Jakes invites Endeavour Morse over for dinner...for their first real date, uninterrupted by murderers or awkwardness. He just wants a chance to do right by Morse. He didn't quite expect the evening to end the way it did.Not that he was complaining, mind you.





	1. I Used to Live Alone (Before I Knew Ya)

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. I got distracted.
> 
> One note: the first chapter was previously in _Sweetheart_ and is smut-free. Just some kissing at the end. Chapter 2 (and upcoming 3)...well, those escalate rather quickly.
> 
> Canon Timeline: This occurs after Coda. There are _things_ that I have planned for Coda which prompt Jakes to finally suck it up and ask Morse out.
> 
> Shameless Timeline: Between _don't ask me what your sacrifice was for_ and _I'll be There on the Double_. Hah, which makes it the earliest thing I've personally written for them!

Peter Jakes had a reputation to protect. Throughout his late teens and early twenties, he had been known as the man who “knew how to treat a girl right”. As he climbed his way up from Police Constable to Detective Sergeant, he worked hard to maintain that image. He’d make sure to be seen out at a pub at least once a week, usually with a brand new girl on his arm. Dinner, drinks, dancing--the works. Peter Jakes was not a man who would skimp on a date.

Which was why he was determined that this date would be no exception. His first three attempts had been rather miserable failures. Well, the second was a failure, the third almost a success, and the first...had ended rather abruptly with a murder. Thus far, he had not lived up to his reputation. And this time, it mattered.

Not that he hadn’t wanted to treat any of the girls well--he’d wanted to give them a night to remember. That was all any of them really wanted, a chance to dance, laugh, and have fun. Sometimes they’d retreat to his bedsit for a nightcap...or more. But more often than not, the girls he took out were just like him. Trying to live the way that their peers seemed to do effortlessly. Trying to love the right kind of person.

But this was different. This wasn’t the right kind of person. This was the kind of person that Peter Jakes wanted. The kind of person he had been desperately trying to impress since the day they met, though he wouldn’t admit that out loud. This was the kind of person who saved him from his own nightmares, who gave him forgiveness when he least deserved it. This was the kind of person who saw right through his facade, who wasn’t afraid to take him down a peg or two. This was the person he’d nearly lost twice, and the person he feared losing the most.

This was Endeavour Morse.

* * *

Figuring out precisely how to impress such a man as Endeavour Morse had been quite a challenge. A distinct challenge had been the simple fact that Peter could not “go out” with Morse in the regular sense of the words. Not if they wanted to keep their jobs. Then there was the fact that Morse was...well, Morse. Jakes had already stalked him to an opera performance; his uneducated blundering through their “chance meeting” had earned him a conciliatory pint afterwards. He had counted that as an almost-successful date.

Jakes finally decided to break out one of his most well-hidden talents. Being a single man, with a reputation as a lady-killer and a distinct hatred of all things plebeian had lead Jakes to become proficient in the culinary arts. He was a neat and efficient cook, which allowed him to indulge in some rather flamboyant recipes. And if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Endeavour Morse did not eat enough. Jakes wasn’t entirely sure that the man did eat. And that, he could fix.

By the time Morse arrived (trust the man to arrive at the precise moment Jakes’ clock finished striking 5 pm), Jakes had just pulled his best steak and kidney pie out of the oven. It was, perhaps, not the flashiest meal that he could have cooked, but it was Jakes’ favorite comforting dish. Endeavour Morse always looked like he could use a little bit of comforting. Not that Jakes would tell him that-- not yet, at any rate.

Morse stepped through the doorway, looking like he’d actually taken the time to press his shirt and trousers before coming over. (Jakes was ridiculously pleased. Morse didn’t press his shirt even for funerals). He also looked like he had utterly no idea what on earth he was supposed to do, so Jakes sat him down a the table and poured him a glass of the wine that Morse had brought. (He’d mutely handed the bottle to Jakes, with a shy half-smile that nearly made Jakes melt.) When Morse turned startled blue eyes to the (rather large) slice of kidney pie that Jakes served him, Jakes snorted.

“And when did you last eat, Morse?”

“You sound like Mrs. Thursday,” Morse grumbled in reply, poking curiously at the pie.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jakes replied primly, taking an equal size slice for himself. Morse glared at him, and Jakes smiled smugly back. At least Morse didn’t look quite like a skittish dog any more.

“I had a sandwich,” Morse paused to think. “Last night, I think. Maybe lunch yesterday, actually.”

“Morse!” Jakes’ fork clattered to the plate. God, the man really didn’t eat. Morse looked up at him, startled. “How are you still standing? No, don’t answer that. Eat. Eat now, talk later, before you fall over.”

Morse blinked at him, clearly trying to decide whether to obey or fight back. His stomach interceded with a loud grumble. Morse looked horrified, and Jakes pursed his lips.

“I did not cook you my best steak and kidney pie so you could admire it from afar while your stomach sings us a song. Eat, dammit.”

Morse’s eyes widened and dammit he looked adorable when he was surprised. “You--you made this?” He stared down at his food again. Jakes was getting rather tired of the looks his poor pie was getting.

“No, Morse, it spontaneously appeared in my oven. Eat!”

Morse gave the pie one more wondrous look (Jakes was secretly flattered by that look) before he took a tentative bite. Jakes pretended to be paying attention to the cigarette he was lighting. He almost lit his own finger when Morse’s face melted into a look of bliss.

“That is...that’s really good, Jakes.”

“Morse, for God’s sake, call me Peter,” Jakes growled, trying not to look too pleased. “We are very much not at work.”

Morse glanced back down at his food, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks at the reminder. Then he took a deep breath and glanced back up at Jakes--through his eyelashes! Jakes almost fell out of his chair.

“This is really good, Peter,” Morse repeated, softly. He gave Jakes another half-hidden smile. His eyes, though, were shining. It took Jakes a full minute to realize his cigarette was still unlit between his fingers.

* * *

Between the two of them, they ended up finishing off the pie. Jakes was quite pleased with himself, especially when Morse admitted he hadn’t eaten that much in, well, a long time. Jakes believed him. They’d also managed to finish off the entire bottle of Morse’s wine. Morse had started to loosen up around the third glass of wine, leaning more easily into the chair rather than sitting primly on the edge.

Morse insisted on helping clean up, and Jakes was rather impressed with the quality of his dishwashing skills. He was also completely smitten by the sight of Morse with a towel slung over his shoulder and his shirt sleeves rolled up. When Morse caught Jakes staring at him, Jakes held his gaze a moment longer than he probably should have. Morse flushed, and glanced back at the dishes for a moment. To Jakes utter amazement, Morse then glanced over his shoulder and through his eyelashes again at Jakes. It was only for a second, but Jakes had to take a long drag on his cigarette to keep from falling over.

When the kitchen had been cleaned to Jakes’ standards, he took the liberty of grabbing Morse by the wrist (was it too soon to take his hand? ) and pulling him through to the sitting room. He pushed Morse down on the couch before retreating to pour them both a scotch. After handing a glass to Morse, Jakes sat down on the couch. He left what he hoped was an acceptable distance between them--not too demanding and not too distant.

Jakes never could remember afterwards what it was they talked about that night. Somehow they found enough material for a few hours of conversation. What Jakes would remember--could never forget, never wanted to forget--was the way Morse looked that night.

Morse curled up on the couch, drawing his long legs up underneath him with feline grace and turning to face Jakes. His face was animated through their conversation, and full of light. Gone were the lines of concentration that appeared when Morse was trying to puzzle his way through acceptable social graces. Gone too--to Jakes’ great relief--was the usual trepidation that lurked in his eyes when Jakes teased him. Morse batted away Jakes’ quips, and easily fired back. His blue eyes were shining with something that looked suspiciously like merriment, and a dash of hope. His mouth had slowly relinquished it’s tight grip on Morse’s beautiful smile. Jakes realized he had never seen it quite as often as he did that night. He promised himself he would make Morse smile that way as much as he could.

Jakes never could remember exactly when Morse ended up leaning against Jakes. Somewhere in the midst of their conversation they had discarded shoes and ties, and their glasses landed on the table. What Jakes would remember was the warm, solid feel of Morse on his chest. He would forever cherish the moment he realized that Morse--arrogant, sarcastic, distant, brilliant, beautiful , Endeavour Morse-- had become confident enough in whatever this was to relax backwards into Jakes.

Morse was sleepy, and Jakes had a weakness for a sleepy Morse. He’d first discovered the allure of a drowsy Morse when he’d visited him a few times after the Wolvercote Trove case. Absent a black eye and lacerated nose, Morse’s languid movements were even more adorable. When awake, Morse was all hard edges and twitches. His body’s angles and his mind’s precision could cut you from a distance, and his constant movement would exhaust even the most energetic child. But as he lay now, one leg draped over the arm of the couch, he seemed to have melted into a figure from a Monet painting. His sculpted features blurred into pleasant softness, and his barbed wit relaxed into playfulness.

Jakes never could remember exactly when Morse had fallen asleep against him. Sometime in a lapse of conversation, Jakes had stared at Morse for a few moments too long, and then the man was asleep. What Jakes would always remember was what happened when Morse woke up. Morse stirred, blinking blearily up at Jakes.

“Mm, sorry, did I fall asleep?” he murmured, stretching like a cat. He shifted against the back of the couch, so that he was facing Jakes a bit more directly. As the sleep cleared out of his eyes, he focused in on Jakes.

Jakes found himself pierced by the beauty of those blue-grey eyes. It took him far too long to realize that Morse had nearly stopped breathing. He was staring at Jakes with an openness Jakes had never seen. Fear, longing, hope, and desire were mixing together in treacherous and tantalizing patterns in those blue depths. Their faces were only a few inches apart. Something told Jakes that if he didn’t take this chance now, he would never be blessed with that same window into Morse’s soul. Jakes moved, bringing one hand up to caress the side of Morse’s face and pressing his lips to Morse’s.

In his imagination, Jakes had always expected Morse to hesitate or pull back, unsure of what they were doing. He’d never expected the way Morse sighed into his embrace, nor the way Morse’s arms wrapped around Jakes, one hand coming to clasp the back of his neck. He certainly had never dared to hope for the way Morse parted his lips, allowing Jakes to deepen the kiss, nor the soft moan that followed.

When Jakes had planned this evening, he hadn’t expected to end the evening on his couch, enthusiastically kissing (and being kissed by) his dinner date. Considering they had made it this far, though, he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted the evening to end there. Maybe his bedroom would be a more comfortable place to retire for the evening...

Jakes had a reputation to protect, after all.


	2. The Baffled King Composing Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter Jakes planned this night...he hadn't planned _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is L O N G. And also...very much smut. :D You've been warned.

When Jakes had planned this evening, he hadn’t expected to end it on his couch, enthusiastically kissing (and being kissed by) his dinner date. Complaint, however, was the furthest thing from his mind. Though he would admit it to no one--except, maybe someday, Morse-- Jakes had dreamed of this moment for...far too long. He had spent far too many evenings slipping away from the pub, wandering home to wonder what Morse tasted like. He had bragged of (often completely false) conquests, all the while wondering what Morse would feel like under his hands. He had kissed plenty of birds, always coming away disappointed that the face before him wasn’t the freckled, angular face of Endeavour Morse.

Now he didn’t have to wonder anymore, because he was kissing Morse and--God in heaven--Morse was _kissing him back._

Jakes was quite glad they were already on the couch, because he wasn’t certain that he would be able to keep his legs under him. Morse’s lips were unexpectedly soft, and his gentle kiss--which was almost reverent--far more exquisite than Jakes had ever imagined. The sensation nearly overwhelmed him. Jakes wrapped silken curls around his fingers, marvelling at the way those curls seemed to electrify his fingers; he couldn’t get enough of them. 

A soft moan escaped Morse, and Jakes lunged forwards. Where Morse had been gentle, Jakes was now insistent, claiming the gift that had been offered him. His hands slid down Morse’s back, eliciting a shiver from Morse. Jakes’ slender fingers reached Morse’s waist, and he couldn’t resist slipping them underneath the hem of his shirt. He felt as if he had found heaven as his fingers ghosted across Morse’s smooth skin.

Morse arched backwards at the touch, breaking the kiss. Jakes would have been disappointed if it weren’t for the long curve of Morse’s pale throat that was now before him. Jakes chased that curve with his lips until he found a spot that made Morse whimper. Encouraged, Jakes caught the skin gently between his teeth, soothing the bite with his tongue. Jakes’ hands slid up Morse’s back, slipping underneath the man’s shirt and vest. His fingers explored the smooth skin as if it were pure gold. 

Jakes did not miss the way Morse’s muscles stiffened under the exploration. A moment later, Morse shifted backwards, pulling away from Jakes. His eyes remained fixed on Jakes, wide and unreadable. 

“Morse?” Jakes queried--and no, his voice did not break and he was _not_ out of breath. Much.

Morse certainly _was_ out of breath, and he could only stare at Jakes for several minutes. While Jakes would rather have been kissing the man, he wasn’t entirely disappointed in the picture that was before him. Morse’s curls were quite a disaster--more than usual--and Jakes felt an odd flutter of pride at the thought that he had caused the disarray. The mark on Morse’s neck was already a bright bruise, and Jakes grinned at the thought that he had _marked_ Endeavour Morse. 

When Morse’s silence started to get a tad frustrating, Jakes stroked his thumbs over Morse’s back. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp as Morse shivered at the gentle touch.

“Morse, what’s wrong?” Jakes asked, a bit more sharp this time. Those few seconds spent staring at Morse had led Jakes to the conclusion that Morse was uncertain. 

“Are you sure...about this?” Morse asked, his voice low and breathy.

Jakes shuffled a bit more upright, but refused to move his hands from Morse’s side. He had the distinct feeling that if he let go now, he might never have the chance again.

“About what?” 

“This.” Morse’s head tipped to the side, and he brought one hand up to Jakes’ face. Jakes jumped as one finger gently traced the curve of his lips. “Us.”

Jakes swallowed, rather unnerved by Morse’s gesture. Not that he would admit it to anyone. He tried to make sense of Morse’s words. It was rather difficult, what with the way Morse was staring at him.

“Us?” he finally managed. 

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Morse’s hand dropped to his lap, and something ugly flashed across his face. He looked as if he had been slapped.

Jakes cleared his throat, trying to focus. Were this anyone else, Jakes would have thrown his hands up and walked away in frustration. But this was _Morse_ , and Jakes knew Morse. He knew well how sensitive Morse could be, how he always seemed prepared for rejection or judgement. He knew that if Morse felt threatened, he would either lash out or retreat into himself, putting up walls stronger than concrete. And he could see Morse’s shoulders curving in, as his eyes turned towards his hands.

Jakes had no intention of letting Morse put those walls up. 

He smoothed his hands down Morse’s back, bringing them to rest on the man’s waist. The movement got Morse’s attention, and he glanced up at Jakes. God, he looked frightened.

“Endeavour,” Jakes whispered. Morse’s eyes narrowed at the use of his name, but he let it go. “I’m sure about us.” He circled one hand around Morse’s back, leaving the other anchored. Jakes tried hard to keep his mind _off_ of the forbidden, soft skin beneath his hands and on the man he needed to reassure. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure. Morse, I mean that. Whatever _this_ is, I don’t want to lose it.” He allowed himself a suggestive grin. “But I wouldn’t mind a little _more_.”

Morse’s shoulders relaxed, but only a little. “Are you sure?” he whispered, uncertainty still on his face.

Jakes was never really that good with words. And finding the right words around Encyclopedia Morse nearly always ended with frustration. Besides, something told him Morse would never be quite convinced with smooth words and gilded promises.

So Jakes pulled Morse forward into another kiss.

Jakes closed his eyes, pressing his lips gently into Morse’s. Every nerve in his body insisted that he simply ravage Morse, but Jakes moved slowly, almost tenderly. Morse needed to know how much Jakes wanted him. He needed to know how much Jakes actually cared about him. God, how long had Jakes been--he wouldn’t say pining-- pursuing Morse? Too long. And Morse needed to know that.

He needed to know this wasn’t a one-time thing. This wasn’t about releasing tension, fumbling around in the dark, two blokes pretending to be just like everyone else. This was about _them_ , and this was real.

When Jakes felt Morse relax into his hands, he pulled back just far enough to look at Morse. He tried not to grin at the dazed look in Morse’s eyes.

“I’m sure, Morse. Believe me?” 

Morse nodded, a little unsteadily. 

Jakes grinned, but paused as he noticed that Morse still looked...uncertain. His wide eyes were staring at Jakes with an expression that Jakes couldn’t read. Something was wrong, and Jakes had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what it was.

Jakes wanted this, wanted _Morse._ He had, for a long time. Somewhere along the line, they’d become, well, friends. And honestly, the time he’d spent learning about who Morse was underneath his armor of sarcasm and opera had only made Jakes want the man more. He was beautiful, in all the senses of the word. God, Jakes wanted him.

But it didn’t matter how much he wanted it. Despite his storied reputation, there was no way in _hell_ Peter Jakes was proceeding if the man opposite him didn’t want this. If that look on Morse’s face meant that he wasn’t ready for this step. Jakes had that choice taken away from him when he was younger, and he would _never_ take that choice away from anyone else.

But God, he hoped the night wouldn’t end with another cold, lonely shower.

“Do you want this, Morse?”

Morse dropped his eyes to his hands. Jakes followed his gaze and realized that Morse was _shaking._ Bloody hell.

“I’m not going one step farther, Morse, unless you tell me what you want,” Jakes growled.

Morse’s eyes flicked back up to Jakes’, and Jakes couldn’t stop himself from gasping. Desire and longing blazed in Morse’s eyes. There was fear there, too, lurking in the background.

“I want you, Peter.” Morse whispered, so softly that Jakes almost missed it. Morse reached out a shaking hand, laying it gently on Peter’s chest. His long fingers toyed with the top button on Jakes’ shirt. Morse ducked his head, avoiding Jakes’ scrutiny. “So much...it scares me.”

 _Oh._ Maybe that was it. Jakes was fairly certain that Morse had been with women before, but maybe...maybe he’d never been with a man.

“Have you...you know, with a bloke, Morse?” Jakes asked, willing his hands not to move.

Morse’s head snapped up, a familiar sneer on his face. “Yes, I’ve _done this_ before, Peter.”

Jakes felt as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse; he was terrified that he would spook Morse.

“What are you afraid of, then?” Jakes murmured, covering Morse’s wandering hand with his own. Morse’s eyes widened and he swallowed heavily as he stared at their joined hands.

Silence settled around them, the only sound was Morse’s elevated breathing. Finally, he took a shuddering breath and locked eyes with Jakes.

“I’m afraid...I’ve wanted this for so long, Peter.” Morse was definitely trembling now. “I’m afraid of how much I...how much I want you.”

Jakes had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Trust bloody Endeavour Morse to overthink something as simple as _desire._

Jakes brought his other hand up to Morse’s chin, tilting the man’s head so that Morse couldn’t look away.

“Do you want this, Morse? Right now?”

Morse’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into Jakes’ touch. “Yes.” It was a reverent ghost of a word that made Jakes shudder.

“Do you trust me?” 

Morse’s eyes flickered open again and _ah, there it was._ Fear, faint and hidden, but there nonetheless. Jakes felt the sharp knife of regret slice into his heart. In that moment, he wished he could take back all of his bragging, all of his useless quips, all of his teasing. Because he knew what that fear meant. There was a tiny part of Morse that was probably afraid this was all one big joke at his expense. And no matter what, Jakes couldn’t do this with Morse if the man wasn’t ready, if he couldn’t trust Jakes. 

No matter how much they both wanted it. He took a deep breath, ready to push Morse away, when Morse spoke again.

“Yes. I trust you, Peter Jakes.” And then Morse’s lips were on his again.

There was no more hesitation in Morse’s embrace. Gentle kisses gave way to hungry demands. Shaking hands began an insistent exploration of Jakes’ body. He couldn’t hold back a moan as those hands slipped beneath his shirt, cool fingertips drawing flaming patterns on his skin. Morse’s hands-- _God_. Jakes arched backwards as Morse’s fingers danced along the edge of his trousers. Then he felt himself falling, back onto the couch. Those teasing hands both pushed him down and chased him as he fell.

Jakes blinked up at Morse, somewhat uncertain of how he had ended up _beneath_ Morse. Not that he minded over much: the sight of a rather rumpled and wanton Morse straddling him more than made up for the unexpected angle. Especially when Morse bent over him to capture his lips once more. Jakes groaned as Morse pulled back. He tried to chase Morse’s lips, but those traitorous hands kept him down. 

Morse shuffled down Jakes body, his hands trailing down his sides and coming to rest near his belt buckle. Jakes groaned when he felt fingers run teasingly along his length. Bloody _hell,_ those hands would be the death of him. 

It was the slight _clink_ of his belt buckle that brought Jakes back to his senses. Not that he wanted to complain, but this wasn’t quite how he had imagined the night going. He most certainly wanted to find out what sorts of trouble Morse’s hands could get into, but that could come later.

What Jakes really wanted was to explore Morse’s body. He wanted to know what Morse’s chest looked like under those perpetually wrinkled shirts. He wanted to know precisely what parts of Morse were covered with freckles. He wanted to run reverent fingers over the scars he knew to be just under Morse’s ribcage and on his hip. He wanted to know exactly what Morse would sound like as he, Peter Jakes, slowly took him apart. Getting to touch, explore, and have his way with someone as lovely as Morse? That was reward enough for tonight.

But here was Morse fumbling with Jakes belt, as if simply getting off was the only thing Jakes had in mind for the evening. Well, that wouldn’t do.

Jakes reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around Morse’s wrist. Morse paused, eyes darting to Jakes. Jakes frowned at the worried expression on Morse’s face.

“I’m not complaining, Morse, but what exactly are you doing?” Jakes coupled his words with a predatory grin. The last thing he needed was Morse assuming that he had changed his mind.

Morse’s tongue dared out to lick his lips, as his gaze dropped back to Jakes’ belt. Jakes nearly cursed at the sight.

“I, uh, well, I thought that...I mean, I usually...you know...take care of you?” Morse’s voice wavered somewhere between confusion and lust.

Jakes wiggled upright, still not letting go of Morse’s wrist. “Do you mean, when you’ve done this before, you always…” Jakes trailed off, inclining his head.

Morse nodded. “It’s what they’ve expected of me, the...the blokes I’ve been with. You know...” He shrugged. “It’s not like, well, we can’t be too choosy, men like us.”

Jakes’ mouth fell open and he simply stared at Morse. Was he trying to say that, every time he’d been with a man before, they simply expected him to _service them?_ As if he were some sort of free prostitute? And he just...went along with it? God, Jakes knew Morse was a bit naive but _really._

“Is that what they told you?” he growled, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Morse slid back, eyes widening in alarm. He nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“And what did you get out of it?” Jakes almost didn’t want to know.

Morse tilted his head, as if the question didn’t make sense. He shrugged again. “They make sure I get off, usually. I don’t mind much,” he grinned slyly at Jakes, his free hand sliding down to squeeze Jakes teasingly.

Jakes moaned at the feeling of Morse’s hand on him. He nearly gave in. But he could not get distracted; this was important. The very _thought_ of some arrogant wanker absolutely wasting a treasure like Morse, without even bothering to...well. If that was the experience Morse was used to, he was in for something new. Peter Jakes was not one to sit back and let someone else do all the work. 

Jakes grinned at Morse and tightened his grip on Morse’s wrist. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, Detective Constable E. Morse, but that is not the way I go about things.” 

Jakes allowed Morse a full two seconds to let the words sink into his brain. As Morse’s eyes creased in confusion, Jakes lurched forwards. He slid his legs from under Morse, pushing the younger man back at the same time. Once Morse was flat on the couch beneath him, Jakes pressed himself against Morse. He tilted his hips, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of Morse underneath him. Then he pressed his lips to Morse’s, laying claim to the man’s mouth. He reveled in the startled yelp that Morse gave, and he didn’t let up his assault until he felt Morse’s hands scrabbling at his back. 

Jakes pulled back, far enough to look Morse in the eyes. “I am not _them,_ ” he growled. “And you will not get out of here that easily.” 

He tilted his head, examining Morse. Exactly where to start his exploration? _Ears_. Morse’s ears had always rather intrigued him. Jakes nuzzled into Morse’s ear, tracing the shell lightly with his tongue. Morse gasped, hands pushing on Jakes’ shoulders.

“What--- _God_ \--Peter, what are you doing?”

Jakes laughed, and pressed a kiss to Morse’s ear. “I’m exploring,” he murmured. He eyed Morse critically for a moment before coming to a decision. With a wicked grin, he wrapped his lips around Morse’s earlobe, teasing it with his tongue. 

“Explor--ahhh---Peter!” Morse gasped. The hands that had been weakly pushing against Jakes closed around his shoulders, fingers catching in the fabric. 

Jakes kept up his ministrations a while longer, enjoying the way Morse writhed beneath him. _Sensitive ears._ This was going to be far more interesting than he had expected. 

Finally tiring of ears, Jakes moved his attentions to Morse’s neck. He’d been captivated by that neck, with its graceful lines and faint freckles for so long. Jakes pressed a few kisses to Morse’s neck before pulling back. He propped himself up and inspected his work thus far. 

Morse’s chest was heaving, and he was staring up at Jakes with wide eyes--wide, lust-darkened eyes. Jakes reached out with one hand, tracing Morse’s jawline with a finger. Morse shivered as Jakes trailed fingers down Morse’s slender neck. They came to rest in the hollow of Morse’s throat. Jakes traced the bits of collarbone that he could see. He watched as Morse’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. Jakes eyes flicked back up to Morse’s and he realized Morse looked...confused.

“Morse,” Jakes murmured, pressing their lips together. “What’s wrong?”

Morse searched his face, his hands trailing back down to Jakes’ belt. “What are you doing?” he whispered, an uncertain tremor in his voice.

Jakes sighed. He laid his hand gently on Morse’s face, one finger dancing across Morse’s red lips. “Morse, has anyone ever taken care of you? Really?”

Morse’s fingers stilled, and Jakes was almost grateful...it was a little hard to concentrate with those fingers dancing along the edges of his cock. 

“What do you mean?” Morse whispered.

“Has anyone ever spent an entire evening just...just on you?” Jakes murmured. He let his fingers sweep down Morse’s neck, and then wander down Morse’s chest. “Has anyone ever undressed you, so slowly you wanted to scream?” His fingers toyed with the edge of Morse’s shirt, peeking underneath. “Has anyone ever let their hands wander all over you, taking you apart bit by bit?” He slid his hand up Morse’s shirt, stroking his thumb over the smooth skin--and trying to stop himself from just ripping that shirt off of Morse. “Has anyone ever _worshipped_ you?”

Jakes had to smirk at the look on Morse’s face. He looked utterly shocked. Although, if Jakes wasn’t mistaken, he also looked rather aroused. Morse sucked in a deep breath, swallowing heavily. Jakes watched his throat bob and couldn’t hold back a low growl of desire.

“No?” Morse breathed. “No, um…” Morse took another breath, clearly trying to focus. “No.”

Jakes grinned. “That’s a sin, Endeavour Morse.” He swooped down, capturing Morse’s lips with his. Jakes teased Morse’s lips until Morse relented and let him in. Jakes spent a few minutes giving Morse a taste of what worshipping meant before pulling back. “Anyone who hasn’t bothered to…” Jakes paused, finding words suddenly failing. “God, Morse. You’re so beautiful. I can’t...I can’t believe they’ve just… _used_ you. Before.”

Morse’s eyes dropped to the space between them. “I’m not...Peter, I’m not the easiest person to get along with. You know that.” He shrugged. “I take what I can get. It’s fine.”

Jakes slipped one hand up, cupping Morse’s chin. “No, Morse. It’s not fine. Look at me.” Jakes waited until Morse complied. He stroked his thumb over Morse’s lips with more tenderness than he’d really ever shown a lover. Something in Morse’s eyes broke him. 

Morse...he had gone along with whatever his previous partners had insisted on because he truly didn’t think he deserved better. And sure, he was a prickly fellow. Arrogant at times and a bit of a prick. But… _God._

“Morse. You don’t...you don’t deserve to just…” Jakes huffed. “Just...let me show you? Alright? Will you let me show you how...how good it can be?” He surged forward, kissing Morse tenderly.

Morse swallowed, his eyes blinking. “What...what about you?”

Jakes grinned and licked his lips. He dipped a hand down between them, firmly petting at the bulge he found there. Morse gasped, hips bucking up into Jakes’ hand.

“Me? Ah, Morse, this is what I love.” He traced a finger around Morse’s length. “Watching you come apart. It’s all I’ve dreamed about, the past few months.” 

Morse stared at him, his chest rising and falling with encouraging speed. “You...you...really?”

Jakes bit his lip suggestively. “Oh yes. I have a few choice words to say about whoever you’ve been with in the past, because you, Endeavour Morse, are a delicacy I’ve been waiting to devour. For a long, long time.” Jakes cupped Morse, rubbing his thumb near the tip. “So. Will you let me? Treat you right?”

Morse moaned, his head falling back onto the couch. “Yes, God, _yes_. If...if you’re sure.”

Jakes pressed his body against Morse, slowly rutting against him. “Does it _feel_ like I’m sure, Morse?”

Morse let out a stuttered gasp. “Y--yes.”

It occurred to Jakes then that Morse was wearing far too many clothes. And also that this couch was far too narrow for a thorough investigation of Morse. And most importantly, Jakes realized his self-control was rapidly vanishing.

Morse was laying on his couch, pinned beneath him, of his own accord. He was staring up at Jakes with wanton lust, clearly aching and needy. Morse was his for the taking, at long last. What the hell was he waiting for?

“Bedroom,” he whispered hoarsely. “Now.”

Morse looked rather dazed; he didn’t move. Jakes grinned and decided to tease the man a little more. He slid backwards off of Morse, but paused as his hands neared the bulge in Morse’s trousers. Morse’s eyes widened as they fixed on Jakes’ hovering hand.

Jakes slowly slid one finger up Morse’s length, with just enough pressure to cause Morse’s hips to twitch upwards. When they did, Jakes pushed him back down with the same hand. Morse moaned, his eyes fluttering closed.

Then Jakes slipped off the couch. He bent low over Morse, whispering in his ear.

“Whoever used you before, Endeavour Morse, didn’t deserve the chance you gave them.”

* * *

When Morse finally managed to pull himself upright, Jakes reached for his hand. He stared at their intertwined fingers for a moment, gently running his thumb over Morse’s knuckles. How had he managed to end up with this? With Morse, in his home, holding his hand? It didn’t make sense. And he wasn’t going to waste time wondering. 

He tugged Morse to him, burying one hand in Morse’s curls as he sought out Morse’s lips once more. Morse all but melted into Jakes arms. His free hand wrapped around Jakes’ waist, tugging him closer. Morse's lips parted willingly to Jakes, moaning softly as Jakes obliged. 

This was all quite lovely, but Jakes wanted more. He’d pulled Morse off the couch for a reason, and he was starting to get impatient. Jakes slid his hand downwards, past Morse’s belt, until he could wrap his fingers around the curve of Morse’s arse. _God,_ he’d wanted to do that for so long. The feel of Morse under his fingers, the way Morse shifted closer to him at the touch, and the way Morse’s head fell back--it was almost too much for Jakes. He needed to get rid of Morse’s clothes _now._

Keeping his hand firm on Morse’s arse, Jakes spun Morse around and backed him towards the bedroom. He dropped his head to Morse’s exposed neck, exploring the soft skin until he found another spot that made Morse gasp. Jakes lavished the spot with attention until he felt Morse’s legs hit the edge of the bed. _Finally._

Jakes released his hold on Morse, bringing both hands up to Morse’s chest. He pulled back, looking Morse in the eyes. 

“You’ve entirely too many clothes on, Constable,” he growled. “I don’t like it.”

Morse’s eyes searched his face for a moment. Then Jakes felt those long fingers plucking at the edge of his trousers again. 

“So have you, _Sergeant,_ ” Morse hissed. Jakes groaned as those fingers fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. Something in the deliberate way they brushed against him made Jakes suspect Morse wasn’t struggling at all. The bastard was doing it on _purpose._

“God, Morse,” Jakes gasped. “You can’t-- _Endeavour!”_

Jakes’ hands scrabbled at Morse’s shoulders. In one swift move, Morse had slipped a hand into Jakes’ pants and wrapped those sinfully long fingers around his cock. Jakes nearly collapsed at the feel of Morse’s slightly calloused fingers sliding against him.

“You were saying?” Morse hissed, far too sassy and far too composed for Jakes’ liking. It took him a moment to come up with a reply, though, as Morse decided to swirl his thumb over the tip of Jakes’ cock.

“Morse,” Jakes finally ground out. He found Morse’s hand, and tugged it upwards. Morse, however, refused to give in without a fight. Jakes bit his lip against the sensation of Morse’s fingers languidly sliding off of him. “Good _God,_ Morse.” 

Morse was grinning cheekily at him. “Yes?”

“Directions, Morse. I’m taking care of you.” Jakes narrowed his eyes. “Clothes. Off. Now.” Before Morse could react, Jakes shoved him backwards onto the bed. Morse fell with a huff. Jakes chased him, pinning him to the bed with one leg planted on either side of Morse’s narrow hips.

Now _that_ was more like it.

Jakes grinned down at Morse. “I am going to remove every damned piece of clothing on you.” And he was going to take his bloody time about it too. 

Jakes made quick work of the buttons on Morse’s shirt, desperate for more of Morse’s skin. He pushed the shirt back on Morse’s shoulders, tracing his thumbs over the exposed collar bones. Morse’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, his soft sigh sending sparks along Jakes’ fingertips. Jakes licked his lips as he stared at the newly revealed skin in front of him. God, he wanted to know what every inch of Morse’s skin tasted like.

“This,” he murmured, running one finger back over a collar bone. “This is what I mean, Morse. You deserve to be _savored._ ” 

He dove down, pressing a series of open-mouthed kisses along Morse’s creamy skin. His hands slipped under Morse’s vest, fingers mapping out the muscles of Morse’s abdomen. Morse wrapped his arms around Jakes’ back, his hands sliding down Jakes’ back and dipping underneath his trousers. Jakes shivered at the touch. Those long fingers slid down further, ghosting over Jakes’ arse, and he growled.

In retaliation, Jakes slid up to Morse’s neck, suckling into the skin over a pulsepoint. Morse let out a stuttered gasp, his hips jerking upwards to grind against Jakes’.

“That’s what you get when you’re greedy,” Jakes hissed. He pushed himself back up, leaving Morse unable to gain the friction he needed. 

Morse let out a soft whine. His hands trailed around Jakes’ waist, then lower. Jakes’ captured those wandering hands before they could do any more damage. 

“What did I say, Morse?” Jakes reprimanded. 

Morse huffed, glaring up at Jakes with dark eyes. Jakes grinned wickedly down at the several livid marks he had left on the man. _The first of many,_ he thought to himself. 

Jakes traced one of the marks with a finger, soothing the redness. “Has anyone ever marked you, Morse?” he asked thoughtfully. Morse gulped, shaking his head. Jakes grinned. “Hah. It’s official. You’re mine then. All. Mine.” Jakes punctuated each word with a nip at Morse’s skin.

He glanced down at Morse’s hands in his, and then thoughtfully back at Morse’s face. Morse was watching him, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Without warning, Jakes took one of Morse’s fingers between his lips and sucked it into his mouth. He reveled in the shocked look on Morse’s face. With his other hand, Jakes undid the buttons on Morse’s sleeve and slowly began winding his fingers up Morse’s arms.

“Peter,” Morse choked.

Jakes swirled his tongue around Morse’s finger once more before letting go. “Yes, Morse?”

“Stop teasing.”

Jakes canted his head to the side, a devilish look coming over his face. “Oh, this isn’t teasing, Constable. I’ll _show_ you teasing,” he promised.

With that, he dove back down, sliding his hands under Morse’s vest. He ran them up Morse’s chest and then slowly dragged his fingernails back down. Morse arched up off the bed with a muffled cry of _Peter_. Jakes wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a blessing. He didn’t care either way.

He did take advantage of Morse’s change in position, sliding his hands behind Morse’s back to bring him into a heated kiss. Then Morse’s hands were in Jakes’ hair and Jakes lost track of himself for a few moments. Wandering fingers at his collar brought him back to his mission. Morse had already gotten several buttons undone, and was sneaking his fingers underneath Jakes’ shirt.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jakes nipped at Morse’s ear, effectively stopping the attack against his shirt. “That’s better,” he murmured into Morse’s neck. He swirled his tongue around Morse’s ear, enjoying the moan Morse gave in response. While Morse was occupied, Jakes took the chance to slip the rumpled shirt off of Morse’s thin shoulders. With one final nip at the ear he’d been attending to, Jakes slid his hands under Morse’s vest again. He pulled back, deftly slipping the vest over Morse’s head.

 _Finally._ Jakes gave Morse a shove, devouring the younger man with his eyes as Morse splayed backwards onto the bed.

God, had he ever seen anything quite this lovely? Morse’s milk-white chest was covered with several constellations of freckles and a thin meadow of _auburn_ hair. He had an almost fey beauty, his coloring and his (frankly ridiculously) thin build combining to give him an ethereal look. Jakes tucked a thought in the back of his mind to make sure the idiot ate more in the future.

Morse twitched under him, and Jakes flicked his eyes up towards his face. Morse stared at him. His breathing had gone still and his wide eyes were full of...trepidation? What the devil was the idiot worried about? 

“Morse?” Jakes whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re...staring at me,” Morse replied.

Jakes canted his head to the side, eyes roving the alluring body beneath him. He was, in fact, doing just that. And was almost content to just keep staring. Morse was bloody _gorgeous,_ and Jakes had long waited to get a glimpse under the man’s perpetually rumpled exterior. He had known there was something lovely hiding under those ill-fitting suits.

But the way Morse was looking at him made Jakes almost seethe with anger. No one had ever actually just...marveled at Morse before. They had never taken a moment to simply admire the gift they’d been given access to. Hell, even the birds Jakes had been with had spent a moment staring him down, running lacquered nails over his chest. But Morse never been on the receiving end of those looks. 

Jakes bent over Morse, pressing a gentle kiss to lips that were drawn into a frown. He sat back up, leaving one hand on Morse’s cheek.

“Of course I am,” he whispered. “You’re wonderful.” 

Morse flushed red. He stared at Jakes, seeking--and failing--to find any trace of levity. Jakes held his gaze as he slowly, ever-so-slowly, let his fingers wander down Morse’s face. Gentle fingers danced across the younger man’s neck, tracing his collarbone and dipping into the hollow at the base of his throat. Fiery fingers stroked over the bruises left by his own lips, and slithered across Morse’s chest. Reverent fingers trailed them down the center of Morse’s body, marveling at the way Morse shivered beneath his touch. Curious fingers traced patterns on Morse’s ribs. 

And one trembling finger ghosted over the small, pale scar near the base of Morse’s ribs. Jakes stroked the mark for a few seconds, momentarily lost in the terror of that _man down_ call. Then he bent down, placing a feather-light kiss to the scar, banishing the nightmare from this beautiful dream.

Morse squirmed beneath him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Jakes jerked upright. “For what?”

Morse jerked his head towards the scar. “I’m not...perfect. I know.”

“Perfect?” Jakes sputtered. Good lord, the man was stubborn. Peter Jakes had never yet failed to have his partners writhing in ecstasy beneath his practiced hands, and here was Endeavour Morse, somehow managing to worry about a _scar_. 

Jakes pressed his lips together, biting back the sarcastic quip that came far too easily. Because as he looked into Morse’s eyes, Jakes realized that the idiot actually believed what he said. He wasn’t looking for compliments, or even trying to be modest. He actually thought he wasn’t good enough. He actually thought---good Go--he looked as if he actually thought that Jakes was _disappointed._

Far from it.

“Morse, you’re exquisite. I’ve...I’ve dreamt of this for such a long time. And this?” Jakes trailed his fingers down Morse’s sides, grinning at the way Morse responded to his touch. “This is better than perfect.” He bent low, pressing another kiss to the scar. “You…” Jakes began kissing random spots across Morse’s chest, spending a little extra time on a spot when Morse gasped at the touch. “...are glorious....” Every few kisses, Jakes snuck in a word or two. “Lovely....everything...I want.” 

Jakes finally pulled back, delighted at the glazed expression on Morse’s face. _Better._ But he could tell Morse was still thinking, and that meant Jakes wasn’t doing his job well enough. Besides, if Morse thought Jakes was teasing earlier, he was in for a surprise.

Jakes slid up Morse’s body, capturing his mouth in a heated kiss. Morse whined impatiently when Jakes pulled back. Jakes grinned and trailed his hand up Morse’s chest. “Now shut up, detective.”

Jakes traced a line down the center of Morse’s chest, his nails scraping lightly against the skin. Morse’s breath hitched as the finger reached his belt. Jakes traced the top of Morse’s trousers with his fingers, grinning as Morse gasped. He dipped his fingers just under Morse’s belt, tantalizingly close to Morse’s cock. But so far away.

Morse’s hips bucked up, chasing the ghost of Jakes’ fingers.

“Oh no, not yet,” Jakes whispered wickedly. Morse was nowhere near where Jakes wanted him. “We haven’t even _started_.” Jakes let his fingers dance up Morse’s body, tracing lazy vines over his ribs and caressing his sides. 

Morse swallowed heavily, his eyes following Jakes’ every move. “Peter...what are you-- _ohh!”_

Jakes fingers had ghosted over the younger man’s nipples, and he was delighted when Morse moaned at the touch. Jakes dove down, ravaging one of Morse’s nipples with his mouth. He teased it with his tongue capturing it between his teeth and giving it a tug. Morse wriggled beneath him, gasping.

Jakes grinned at the needy edge that had begun creeping into Morse’s voice. That was much more like it. He grazed his teeth across the sensitive skin of Morse’s chest, reveling in the way Morse’s hips twitched upwards. Jakes shifted his attention to the other nipple, taking a moment to grind his hips down into Morse’s on the way. The stuttered groan Morse let out was one of the most wonderful noises Jakes had ever heard. 

“Like that, hmmm?” Jakes murmured, thumb flicking over Morse’s nipple.   
“Mmmhhhh, _Peter,_ ” Morse moaned, chest arching under Jakes’ practiced fingers. 

Jakes slid up Morse’s body, pressing his lips to the side of his neck. “This, Morse,” Jakes caressed Morse’s chest, dragging another gasp from him. “This is what I mean. This is what I wanted.” He swirled his tongue around Morse’s peaked nipples. “Watching you. You’re so lovely, falling apart for me.”

Jakes tortured Morse a bit longer, his own desire growing as Morse whined under his practiced hands.

“I’ll have you begging, yet,” he whispered into Morse’s ear.

Morse sucked in a shaky breath, his head turning to the side. He locked eyes with Jakes for a moment. Then Jakes found himself pulled into a bruising kiss. 

Morse wrapped one hand around Jakes neck, pulling him closer. His other hand began frantically plucking at the remaining buttons on Jakes’ shirt.

“Not fair,” Morse muttered, pulling back slightly. “Want to touch you.”

Now that Morse mentioned it, Jakes wasn’t entirely sure why he was still wearing his shirt. It wasn’t quite right to not put those elegantly long fingers to _some_ use. Jakes helped Morse along, sighing deeply as they pressed together, skin to skin. 

The world seemed to disappear around them as they became lost in exploring one another. Morse’s hands wandered over the firm plane of Jakes’ back. His fingers gripped bruises into Jakes’ shoulders as Jakes plundered Morse’s mouth. 

Jakes closed his eyes, leaning into Morse’s embrace. How long he had wanted this, wanted Morse to be his. He had waited with little hope of ever being more than just a colleague. And now he had Morse, in his bed and in his arms. 

“God, Morse,” Jakes moaned, his kisses becoming more insistent. He wanted Morse. He _needed_ Morse. “You’re beautif-- _fuck!_ ” Jakes’ hips bucked as Morse palmed him firmly through his trousers. His fingers traced the outline of Jakes’ cock and Jakes gasped.

 _God,_ the bastard was insistent.

Jakes growled. He captured Morse’s wrists and pinned them back to the bed.

“You’re not very good at following directions,” Jakes murmured into Morse’s ear. 

Morse grinned up at him. _God,_ but he was a sight to behold. His hair was tousled--far beyond its usual disarray. His blue eyes were nearly black with lust, and his lips...well, he looked rather as if he’d just been kissed senseless. 

“I thought I was supposed to be begging for something,” Morse hissed back. 

Jakes felt his pulse jump at the suggestive tone in Morse’s voice. _Fuck._

“If that’s the way you want it, then.” Jakes ravaged Morse’s mouth once more before sliding off him. He ran one hand possessively down Morse’s chest. “Watch what you wish for.”

He delighted in the way Morse stiffened in anticipation.

It was time, really. Jakes had quite enjoyed toying with Morse up till now. Finding out what made him whimper with pleasure, what made him squirm. He’d been quite happy to take his time exploring. But he was aching and hard, his trousers far too tight. And God help him, but he wanted Morse. All of him. 

Jakes inched off the bed, until he stood over Morse, a wicked grin on his face. He locked eyes with Morse as he slid his fingers under the cuffs of the younger man’s trousers. His fingers danced on the cool skin there, drawing simple patterns up as high as Jakes could reach. Morse shivered, his eyes wide.

Jakes tugged Morse’s socks off, and then leaned over Morse. “Your trousers, Constable, are a disgrace.” He ran a hand up the inside of Morse’s thigh, his thumbs teasing Morse’s length. Morse gasped, his hips twitching towards’ Jakes grip. 

“They need to come off. Now.” Jakes repeated the movement with his other hand, watching Morse gasp for breath. Then he set to work on Morse’s belt. 

Jakes was quite good at getting rid of belts. And trousers, for that matter. It should have taken him only a few seconds. But Morse had teased Jakes, and now it was Jakes’ turn for revenge. He fumbled about with the belt, ghosting his thumbs over the tip of Morse’s hidden cock. He bit his lip, grinning down at Morse’s broken moans. Once the buckle was dealt with, Jakes slowly slid the belt out from Morse’s trousers, one hand resting teasingly on Morse’s inner thigh. Then Jakes slowly--achingly slowly--tugged Morse’s zipper down, his fingers giving just enough pressure to leave Morse panting.

Then Jakes pulled back, staring at Morse for a few moments. Morse’s hips bucked, a soft whine slipping through his swollen lips.

“God, Jakes. Touch me, _please._ ”

Jakes grinned, suddenly hooking his fingers under Morse’s trousers. Morse jumped at the touch.

“Oh, I intend to, Endeavour Morse,” Jakes growled. In a swift movement, Jakes tugged Morse’s trousers and pants down. He tossed them behind him, stepping back far enough to appreciate the view...

Of Detective Constable Endeavour Morse, exposed and desperate on his bed. 

“God, Morse,” Jakes breathed. “You’re beautiful.” 

He ran admiring hands up Morse’s inner thighs, parting Morse’s legs so that he could settle in between them. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin of those wonderful thighs, dancing across the tops of them and teasing at Morse’s stomach. On a whim, Jakes dipped a finger into Morse’s navel. He was not disappointed in the reaction.

“Peter, _God!_ ” Morse’s back arched. “That’s...not what I...meant.” He tried to glare down at Jakes, but the effect was rather ruined by the wanton look in his eyes.

“What did you mean?” Jakes asked wickedly, his fingers dancing ever-so-close to Morse’s cock.

Morse growled, and Jakes immediately started planning ways to get him to make that sound again.

“Stop...teasing…” Morse ground out.

“Ah, Morse, you’re going to have to get much more specific than that, I’m afraid.” Jakes ducked forward and licked a teasing stripe up Morse’s cock.

Morse yelped, his fingers scrabbling against the sheets.

“I want to hear you _beg_ , Morse,” Jakes rumbled.

“I don’t…beg.” Morse ground out. 

Jakes grinned; his heaving chest suggested otherwise.

“Have it your way, then,” Jakes hissed. He ran his thumb over the head of Morse’s cock, teasing it a bit before pulling away. Morse tried to thrust up into Jakes’ hand, but met only air.

Jakes waited for Morse to calm, delighting in the saucy--but slightly glazed--glare that Morse gave him. Then he let his fingers wander, feather-light, up Morse’s inner thighs. He reached Morse’s cock, and allowed his fingers to tap-dance up the underside and back down. Morse was panting when he finished, hips thrusting as he tried to chase the sensation.

Jakes grinned, bending low enough over Morse so that their hips were just barely touching. Morse groaned, shuddering as Jakes’ fingers meandered up the younger man’s stomach. His fingers twined up Morse’s body, stopping to play with Morse’s nipples for a moment. Morse whined, his hips frantically trying to reach Jakes. Jakes flicked one finger over Morse’s nipple and ground his hips down at the same time. The moan he dragged from Morse was almost too much.

“Peter…” Morse choked. “Stop....God, _stop it!”_

“Oh, you want me to stop?” Jakes slid his hands back down Morse’s body, stopping just shy of his cock. “I can stop.” He bent down, ghosting his hot breath over Morse’s erection. “I can certainly stop touching you.” He grinned up at Morse, who’s eyes had closed at the sensation.

“Fuck you,” Morse whispered. His fingers were clenched against the bedsheets. 

Jakes bit his lip, considering his next move. Frankly, he was content to sit here and simply watch Morse. The view was rather good, after all. Though, truth be told, his own trousers were far too tight. Jakes rocked back on his heels and swiftly tugged the rest of his own clothes off. He took himself in hand, twisting his wrist as he pulled up, to take the edge off. What else could one do, staring at such a lovely picture such as Morse? The sensation was heavenly, and Jakes moaned with the pleasure of it.

“Are you serious right now?” Morse gasped, his eyes flying open. He stared at Jakes, a mixture of fascination and frustration on his face.

Jakes grinned. He locked eyes with Morse and slid his hand back down his own length. 

“You’re so beautiful, Morse,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t help it.”

And really, he couldn’t. He would be lying if he said he’d never lain in bed, thinking of Morse’s hands on him. Thinking of what it would feel like to have Morse lay there and _watch_ him. God, it was glorious. Jakes leaned over Morse, pressing a kiss to his lips as he slid his hand into his nightstand. He tugged out a jar of Vaseline and smeared some over his fingers. Sliding back to the end of the bed, Jakes took himself in hand once again and slowly began working the length of his cock. _God,_ did it feel good.

“This is what you do to me, Morse,” Jakes growled. “Watching you, teasing you, _wanting_ you.” Jakes circled his fingers around himself, stroking downward. “You’re glorious. I can’t help it.”

When he glanced up at Morse again, the younger man’s eyes were desperate as he watched Jakes’ hands. His red lips were caught between his teeth and his chest was heaving. Jakes threw his head back, losing himself in the feel of his cock and the pleasure of Morse’s wanton gaze on him.

A rustle of bedsheets distracted him, and he opened his eyes to find Morse’s hand moving towards his own aching cock. Jakes moved swiftly, capturing the man’s wrists in his slick hand. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself, Morse?” Jakes growled.

“Peter, _please_ ,” Morse begged raggedly. “Peter, God, I need... _please, Peter!_ ”

Jakes grinned. “Now, Morse,” he stroked his hands down Morse’s sides, letting his fingers trail one more teasing path to Morse’s cock. “Haven’t I taken good care of you?” He ghosted a finger down Morse’s cock, delighting in the fact that he was allowed to touch.

“It’s...torture, Peter Jakes,” Morse gasped. “Please…”

Jakes bent down to kiss Morse. It was something in between tenderness and passion. This was about them, two lonely men who had found each other. This wasn’t just about getting off, finding some release. This was about something far deeper, even if Jakes wasn’t quite ready to admit that it was love. Jakes pulled back, smiling down at Morse--who looked no less needy.

Jakes’ fingers brushed Morse’s cheek, an unexpectedly warm smile blooming on his face. “Alright, Morse. Let me see what I can do about this.”

Jakes slid back down, and gave Morse one last teasing kiss on the tip of his leaking cock. Then he took pity on the man, wrapping his mouth around Morse. 

Morse gasped, his back arching off the bed. Jakes grinned and wrapped his hands around Morse’s hips, holding the man steady. He swallowed Morse as far as he could, then slid back off with an obscene pop. He glanced up at Morse, gently licking at Morse’s head with his tongue. Morse’s hips twitched beneath Jakes’ fingers, seeking contact.

“Peter, God...don’t stop…”

“Morse,” Jakes asked, taking a moment to lick a long, slow stripe up Morse’s length. “Has anyone ever done this for you?”

Morse’s response was a low moan.

“Words, Morse,” Jakes chided. 

“N--noo,” Morse hissed. “Usually...me...giving--oh _God!_ ”

Jakes had expected as such, and thus determined to make this a _very_ good experience for Morse. He took Morse in as deep as he could, humming a bit in appreciation. Jakes worked his way up and down Morse, his tongue lavishing unabashed attention on every square inch that it encountered. Jakes slid his fingers into the mix when he moved up to ravage the head of Morse’s cock; they danced teasingly around Morse’s shaft, drawing broken cries of “please” and “more” from Morse.

_God, he was beautiful._

It was the most beautiful collections of sounds that Jakes had heard, and he didn’t hesitate to tell Morse.

“You’re bloody gorgeous Morse,” Jakes said, slowly pulling off. His fingers took up where his tongue let off. “You feel so good, in my hands, in my mouth. Might get addicted to you.”

“ _Christ,_ Peter,” Morse moaned as Jakes lavished attention on the head of Morse’s cock. “Peter...Peter _please_ ...I need...oh, _Peter!_ ”

Jakes swallowed Morse down once more before sliding off of him. He grinned up at Morse, appreciating the way Morse was writhing on the bed.

“Yes, Morse?” Jakes asked innocently.

“I need...God, Peter,” Morse opened his eyes, staring down at Jakes with feverish desire. “Don’t stop, _please._ ” 

Jakes let his fingers slide down Morse’s thighs, dipping between his legs. “Oh, I’m not sure about that, Morse. Maybe you’ve had enough.”

Morse whined. “God, _no._ Peter….Please…”

Oh, but the way Morse was twisting on the bed, his moans ragged and hoarse, his hands twisted in the sheets. He was coming apart, so very slowly, under Jakes’ hands. And he was _beautiful._

Jakes pressed a kiss to the tip of Morse’s cock as he ran a finger down the underside. “But I want to watch you, Morse,” he whispered.

On a whim, Jakes dared to let his finger continue until it traced across Morse’s entrance. He was expecting the sharp gasp that Morse gave, but he was _not_ expecting Morse’s hips to press down, chasing the pressure.

Jakes glanced up at Morse, eyes wide. _Really?_

“Peter,” Morse stuttered. “Please…God, Peter...I can’t...don’t leave me here.” His hips twitched again. “I can’t...Peter, _please_...I need…” 

Jakes decided to take a chance. He slicked up his finger again, and then ghosted it across Morse’s entrance.

“Tell me what you need, Morse,” he whispered, hardly daring to hope for the answer.

Morse whined. His eyes sought Jakes’. Those blue depths were full of desire. “I need...Peter, please…” he whispered.

Jakes watched Morse, gently pressing his finger into him. Morse’s eyes widened for a moment, before his head fell back with a gasp of relief.

“Yes, Peter…”

Jakes eased his finger into Morse, awed at the level of trust Morse had for him. He worked his finger in, then eased it back out, adding another as Morse’s whine became more insistent. After a few thrusts, Jakes curled his finger, causing Morse’s hips to buck up.

“Oh, God, Peter!” Morse gasped.

Jakes grinned, picking up the pace. Watching Morse like this, working him to the edge was driving Jakes mad. In his dreams, he’d envisioned this...and more. How he wanted to just _take_ Morse, to drive his own hips into Morse. Having Morse so close, so ready… _God_ how he wanted Morse.

“Peter--” Morse gasped, his chest heaving. Jakes glanced up at him, surprised to find Morse staring back. “Peter...please...I need…” There was something in Morse’s eyes, something that looked entirely too much like fear for Jakes’ liking.

Jakes slid his fingers out and Morse groaned. “What, Morse? Tell me. It’s okay,” Jakes ran his hands down Morse’s sides, desperate to erase that fear, to get back to the neediness that lay just beneath.

“Peter…” Morse’s hand sought Jakes’. “I need...I need you...inside of me.” The words came out in a rush. “Please, Peter.”

Jakes felt his pulse jump. “God, Morse,” he breathed. “I...are you sure?”

The desperation in the answering whimper eradicated the last of Jakes’ self control. He kissed Morse, desperately and sloppily. With one hand he slicked himself up, the other he buried in Morse’s hair, pulling Morse closer.

“You’ve been…” Jakes interspersed his words with messy kisses down Morse’s neck. “So gorgeous...for me.” Morse whined in response, his hands wrapping around Jakes’ back in an attempt to get what he wanted. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted to watch you.” Jakes ground his hips down, gasping at the feel of their arousals sliding together. “Wanted to fuck you, Endeavour Morse.” 

Morse’s eyes widened and for a moment, Jakes thought Morse might come undone then and there. Then his eyes narrowed, a hint of sauciness flashing across his face. 

“Then you...better get to it...sergeant.”

Heat and desire and need flashed through Jakes, overwhelming his self control. He growled at Morse, his lips hungrily seeking Morse’s own.

“Watch what you wish for, constable,” he murmured.

Then he was pushing into Morse, slowly, achingly slowly. Savoring the feel of Morse around him. Relishing in the way Morse’s mouth opened in a pleasured gasp. Craving more contact, more stimulation, more movement, more _Morse._

“Fuck, Peter,” Morse moaned. “ _Move_ already.”

Jakes’ resolve broke. He’d held himself on a razor’s edge, teasing himself as he watched Morse unravel. Morse was his for the taking, and damn it, he was _taking_.

Jakes moved his hips, eyes closing as the sensation of Morse around him overwhelmed him. There was nothing then but the two of them...nothing but their joined hips, their slick skin, their moans of passion and pleasure. 

Morse’s hands were in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. His own hands pressed Morse into the bed, keeping him still as Jakes rocked into him. Morse cried out with ecstasy, grinding his hips into Jakes as much as he could.

Jakes kissed Morse as if he were a starving animal, and Morse his last meal. He thrust into Morse as if this were their last time, as if this was something they could never have again. He was reckless as he moved, chasing a paradise he had only dreamed of. He was wicked and wild as he claimed what Morse so willingly gave him.

Morse clung to Jakes as if this were his first time. He met each of Jakes movements with delicious gasps, pleading for Jakes to move _more, harder, faster_. His hands clawed at Jakes’ back, pulling Jakes to him as a drowning man clutches at flotsam. His lips ravaged Jakes’ neck, leaving their mark proudly for anyone to see.

They moved separately, each chasing their own end. 

They moved together, each chasing the completion of dreams they had barely dared to acknowledge.

They moved as one. 

Jakes could feel it building with in him, the furious buzz building towards rapture. He could feel it in Morse, in the way his movements became erratic and his moans stuttered. 

“So beautiful,” he panted. “You are so beautiful for me.” Jakes ravaged Morse’s mouth one last time before pulling back. “Come for me, Morse.”

Morse arched off the bed, a hoarse cry of “Peter!” pulled from his lips. He shuddered beneath Jakes, his hands clutching at Jakes’ shoulders as he came.

The feel of Morse beneath him, around him, with him overwhelmed Jakes. He followed Morse over the edge, breathing Morse’s name as he sagged into his lover’s arms.

The room grew quiet, with just their ragged breathing filling the spaces between them. They lay there, tangled in one another’s limbs and drunk on the feel of each other. 

Jakes turned his head just enough to be able to press a kiss to Morse’s neck. He had sought after Morse, longed after him, dreamed about him for so long. And now he could feel him. He could feel Morse’s chest heaving beneath him. He could feel the sweat and the slick between them. He could feel the softness of Morse’s skin and the roughness of his hair. He could feel everything--every last bit of Morse. 

And it felt like hallelujah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like??
> 
> I know people don't often like to comment on smut fics but like....I would really, really appreciate it if you did? I'll let you in on a little secret....this is my first ever smut fic. *hides in a corner*
> 
> But really, many, many thanks go to fitzrove and guardianoffun who coached me through this, gave me pointers, and encouraged me when I had no clue what the heck i was doing (which was fairly often).
> 
> Chapter 3 will include some mild angst, lots of cuddles, and probably another round. Because you _know_ once Peter Jakes has Morse in his bed, he's not letting him get away.

**Author's Note:**

> The titles for Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 are from [Hallelujah](https://youtu.be/fwMowPviUAQ). The inspiration for this fic came from guardianoffun sending me Hallelujah and going "Jarse?" And then I got it in my head that Jakes just...worships Morse. In this universe, he's been pining after Morse for so long, and when he finally gets to actually touch him, its just _hallelujah_. This song is what I imagine Jakes sings in his head every damn time they get together.
> 
> The work title and Chapter 3's title are from [Marionette](https://youtu.be/g5VEvuh9pWk) by the Gravy Boys. I implore you...listen to this song. Please, please do. It's my all time favorite love song. This song is how I imagine Morse views their relationship for quite a while (until shortly after _Treat You Better_ ).


End file.
